The Ongoing Previews

I won't post too much of Lifebringer, especially since it's still rough as hell due to a lack of editing. Still, I'm excited about it, and I want you to be excited about it too.

So here's chapter 4. The previous 3 can be found in the 'Lifebringer' tab here and there.

Just a warning, it's another short one.

Chapter 4

Planned Luck

     Wrin stood stunned, but only for a moment. It had worked, exactly as it should have. At the end of his luck and the beginning of his courage, his masterful plan had worked.

     He stood no longer. Hurrying out of the room, Wrin strode toward the table to check the abandoned ledger left by the first speaker. His guess was it would have some record of who was admitted and who wasn't. But his guess proved wrong as he found it full of administrative details. There were columns of names, names, names. Mothers' names, fathers' names. His name at the bottom. There was nothing else to imply a granting of admission to the Academy.

     Wrin left the table then, heading out the room's second door in the direction of the second chapel. The newly admitted Priests would gather there to say a brief prayer while their families watched from above. This was the plan's biggest danger. For the full 30 seconds of his feigned prayer he would be exposed. If any of the four Priests from the admissions room came to look for him, he'd be caught and the jig would be up. But he had planned for more damage than they could handle in 30 seconds.

     There was a ledger inside the entrance to the chapel. Wrin checked this and saw a list of names all in the same handwriting. Maybe it was intentional, to stop forgery. Or maybe it was just tradition that one man wrote in the ledger. Either way, it wasn't enough to stop Wrin. With no hesitation and showing no signs of cautious penmanship, Wrin wrote his own name in a perfect imitation of the ones above. Wrin smiled to himself. Beside each name was a number, counting upward to eleven. Wrin added the number '12' beside his name.

     Taking a seat shortly after that, Wrin bowed his head and began to count, distorting the shape of his mouth as he did in case anyone turned his way. It would be a stupid thing to be caught for, counting when he should have been praying. The seconds crawled by, and Wrin fought to keep his pace steady as the numbers grew bigger.

     '28, 29, 30'

     Then he rose and strode out the archway opposite to the one he had come through. Here, he assumed, most new students went off instructions they were given as to where dorms were and where they needed to report to. Many would in fact loop around and meet family out front to receive their packed belongings and exchange final hugs. Wrin had nothing to take with him, so he took the direct route. He'd had something the other students hadn't: the Cathedral's blueprints.

     'Where would Khol be now?' he wondered. The thought was matter-of-fact, lacking all remorse.

     He'd still be by the Paladin's quarters, Wrin guessed. Or maybe already wrangled in the arms of a half-dozen Priests. He would have been standing in the hallway, against the wall that separated him from the Paladins, and over the floor that concealed something none of them were meant to know about. He would have placed the charge, counted the seconds, set it, primed it, and run. By the time it went off he would have slipped through a dozen passageways and pipelines, taking the routes the greasemen had opened up. In the end he would have come out behind the fleeing Paladins, right where Wrin should have been standing...

     The dormitory building loomed before Wrin, just off to the side of the outdoor walkway he was walking along. To his left was a well-groomed field of pruned flowers and trimmed grass. It was glorious. He could get used to living here.

     He reached the dorm building, a large grey mass of stone in the same style as the Cathedral. The only difference was the shape. Where the Cathedral was shaped like an even-armed cross with its top all spired and buttressed, the dorms were a long, three-storey rectangle. The adornment was minimal, but still present in a few places. On the front wall was a large window of stained glass. While those inside the Cathedral depicted the great Priests and Paladins of the world, this one was simply the red form of the Protector's cross suspended in a disc of milky white.

     The Academy grounds were enormous, he realised. Sure, he'd seen the blueprints and maps, memorising the layout of buildings sprawled behind the Cathedral. But as with most things it was something else entirely to see it with his own eyes. Those two-dimensional boxes with all their careful lines were real, tangible objects out here. It was awe-inspiring, seeing those diagrams realised. Out behind the dorms would be the lecture halls, and beside that was the Medicum. A long corridor linked that back to the library, and then onward to the Clericum that stood streetside beside the Cathedral. In between them all were massive greens, all adorned with flowers. Way out to the western edge, somewhere on Wrin's left, was the Apothecarium. Why they would need something as crude as herbal remedies in a place like this was beyond him, but nonetheless it constituted the largest apothecarial garden in the Five Nations.

     The dormitory was upon Wrin now, and he was pleased to find the great oaken doors were wide open. Once inside his eyes took a moment to adjust from being in the sunlight, but he already knew this floor anyway. He was in the mess hall, and backing on to that was the study hall and commons. He strode across the mess hall, passing by the kitchens on his left and a series of long tables that could sit 24 men each on his right. Passing through another open door, he emerged into the common room.

     He stopped for a moment, taking in the lavish comforts of the room. There were two long tables for study, not unlike those in the mess hall. They were behind a partition that seemed all too thin to damped the noise from the commons. The common space itself was adorned with couches and chairs of bright red velvet, framed by a fine, varnished white wood. The colours of the Protector. All around there was enough to seat maybe 30 people in each area, far less than what the mess hall could accommodate.

     At the far end of the common room was a staircase. Up these stairs would be the dormitory floor, and above that was a series of private rooms for studying when one needed isolation. Wrin had seen that floor on the blueprints, had seen 30 spaces all surrounded by paper-thin walls. What people needed to study in that room was a mystery to him. But then, that's why he'd come here, to learn things like what that room was for.

     Wrin climbed the stairs and exited them on the dorm floor. There were beds, again about 30. A heavy-looking trunk lay at the foot of each bed, and simple wooden desk sat beside them. On each desk was a lamp, but they looked nothing like the tickers Wrin was used to.

     "Afternoon." came a voice from beside him, startling Wrin. He suppressed a frightened jump. He was better than that sort of thing.

     "And yourself." said Wrin all cordial, turning to face the voice.

     It belonged to a boy who looked about the same age as him. His hair was a sandy blonde and his face was clean shaven.

     "Lorsem, but call me Lor." he said, extending a hand.

     "Wrin, short for Wrinlett." Wrin replied, taking the hand in a firm shake, "I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here."

     "Neither," said Lor, "but then I'm always willing to make a friend."

     'This fucks up everything...' thought Wrin. No-one was meant to see him just yet. All the other students were supposed to be off fetching belongings so they could move in.

     "You've moved in already?" Wrin asked.

     "Wasn't much to move, all told. Looks like you're about the same." said Lor with a dripping smile.

     This was it, the one tiny thing that could unravel all his plans. Here Wrin could no longer play the game, now he had to play the man. He was good at it normally, but this time the stakes were higher. This time he actually wanted something.

     "Listen, Lor," Wrin began. There was something crucial Lor had said, a broadcast of weakness. Friend. "I need to go clean myself up." Wrin motioned to his beard and scruffy hair. "Don't tell anyone you saw me like this, yeah? You'd do that for a friend?"

     Wrin's eyes were soft as they'd go, practically begging for sympathy. Inside, Wrin smiled as he watched Lor's face light up.

     "Sure thing! I know how it can be, looking all odds and ends!" he proclaimed with a grin.

     Wrin replied with a smile that creased the corners of his eyes. He'd long since learned that creasing the eyes made you look kind and honest.

     "Thanks." he said, keeping his smile as he turned and left the dorm.

     As he headed for the washroom his smile changed. Normally he wouldn't risk giving himself away, but here alone on the landing he indulged himself. His eyes uncreased, his cheeks rose and his smile pulled inwards on his jowls. Crosses Lor was easy.

     At the top of the landing, right by the stairs, was the door to a washroom. It was in here that Wrin procured the only belongings he'd taken with him: a straight-edge razor and a small pair of scissors. Standing over one of the sinks in the row of washbasins, he looked into the reflective glass and brought the razor to his cheek. For a moment he mimed the motion of shaving, making sure his hands would stay steady. Then he filled the basin with water, splashed it on his face a few times and began to cut away his great bushy beard.

     When he left the bathroom his face was clean and his hair was short and neatly trimmed.

     "Crosses! You look like a whole new man!" exclaimed Lor as Wrin came through the door.

     "Yes, and no-one can know what I used to look like." Wrin said again, voice stern but not chiding.

     Lor mimed a zipping motion across his lips, and Wrin turned from him and headed down the room. He made for a bed down the far end, on the inside of the stained glass window. Kicking off his beaten up shoes, he lay on the bed and started at the ceiling. In truth, he had nothing to do until the commotion over in the Cathedral was sorted, and he had no choice but to hope he didn't end up implicated in the whole affair. Maybe he should go back and talk with Lor for a while, he had nothing else to do now that he'd claimed a bed.

     Just as he was thinking it, Lor piped up.

     "So what brings you here?" said Lor, already on his feet and wandering over to Wrin.

     There was a good chance Lor could become a nuisance, but he was at least earnest and friendly, Wrin decided.

     "Same reason as anyone I guess." Wrin replied, turning to face Lor so as to not seem dismissive. Lor nodded his head, taking a seat on the bed opposite Wrin.

     "I had an uncle become a Priest, and he'd always been my grandfather's favourite because of it." said Lor. Wrin didn't make any expression of disgust, but Lor continued with, "It's mean to say, but it's true."

     Wrin raised his eyebrows, as if to say 'fair enough'. He didn't make a response though, so Lor continued. "My dad resented me for my gifts, I think. He kicked me out when I told him, and it's taken me two years to get here and enrol."

     As he spoke, his eyes looked away and his head bowed a little. It was slight, but Wrin knew how to read a man like a book. Lor was hurt, deeply.

     "That's terrible." said Wrin.

     And it was. That didn't mean Wrin felt bad for Lor, mind. If he knew the first thing about what Wrin had been through he'd probably cry. All the same, Lor's tale was unfortunate.

     "But really, what about you? Why act on the gift and learn to be a Priest? Protector knows we all had a choice when he chose us." asked Lor, all the sadness gone from his voice as though it had never been there.

     Wrin paused for a bit, meeting Lor's eyes at first, then looking away.

     "I don't know, I guess I've just always wanted to be one." said Wrin.

     And it was the first honest thing he'd said all day.

Another!

This may contain spoilers...

Or it may not...

Never trust someone over the internet...

I think Lifebringer should become a series. Granted, I'm getting a little ahead of myself here, but I really do think Lifebringer should be one of a series of books. I've been thinking about this for a while now actually, and I have a few ideas about how I'd extend this into a series.

Option A is to have further stories following Wrinlett. The upshot is it makes the series more cohesive, and it would have an indeterminate length as the series would essentially be 'how many stories of Wrin are there to tell?'

Option B is what I'm leaning more toward, which would have 6 books, each concerning a practicer of one of the world's 6 kinds of magic. The issue is this series could feel less cohesive, as essentially the only similarities between books would be the world itself. I might not even want to set pieces in the same time period as one another. Also, after a while I feel it would become a little formulaic. If the intention is to have 6 books, each following someone who does something significant, the reader is going to know that the character will do something significant. This, I feel, would make it difficult to have twists and turns, and may make otherwise good stories a little boring purely because the reader (loosely) knows how it's going to end. Granted, that's all a challenge I need to overcome. The issue is I'm not sure I can overcome it. At least not for 6 books.

I could trim Option B down to less than 6 books, but that seems a little pointless really. That would leave an incomplete set in my opinion. It's like if the Harry Potter series skipped out every other year. Or like writing a songs about Earth, Air and Fire while missing out water. The series would naturally fall as being 6 books under this structure.

So how do I tackle this problem? How do I make 6 whole stories that are interesting, exciting, engaging and let's be honest, readable when the premise gives massive hints at any given ending? You'd pick up a book, get introduced to a character, and sit there knowing that by the end they would have done something significant. I can't fake out and have them not do something significant or I debase the premise of the series. I can't stick to the formula because that makes something boring.

Ah well, I'll come up with something...

A Week Well Wasted

I feel again like I've done a whole lot of nothing.

Only I haven't.

Ok, sure, I haven't done heaps, but this week I've got a lot more done than I have in recent months. I've been sick as a dog all week, yet I still managed to get my shit together for a shoot on Thursday (which came out real nice) and managed to get the ball rolling on Lifebringer again (which now stands at 50,000 words). It's not been a lot, but it's been progress.

It's really hard to remember in the harder times how much work I have done in the past. I can sit there feeling what what I've written is crap, but I have to remind  myself that a) it's only a draft and b) I'm still learning to write books. It's so easy to forget those things and get myself down. It's easy to make no progress and beat myself up over it. It's easy to fall into a slump and not have the patience or energy to get out of it.

I've been in a slump, and I'm hoping that this last week means I'm on my way out of it.

Thing is, for the longest time I was getting frustrated that I wasn't doing any work on Lifebringer, or any other of my projects for that matter. In truth, it's okay to not get anything done if I'm not able to get myself working. I could force myself to write 500 words, hate the process, hate the words and frustrate myself with having to edit them later. Or I could just wait. I could wait until I can write 2,000 words, and have them be better than if I'd forced them.

Now yes, this says some things about work ethic. But I'm not saying 'it's ok to slack off and not try', I'm just saying it's ok to stop if trying hard is yielding nothing. I'm not working to a deadline here. I'm not under any contracts. I've got other stuff in my life and I'm allowed to let my writing sit idle for a time if I so please. What I'm not allowed to do, at least if I want to be taking myself seriously, is stop trying. It's important to keep myself 'in practice', if you will. And that means sitting the fuck down and trying to get some work done from time to time. Or writing a short one-off piece just to keep my skills sharp

So that's what I've done this week. I've been legitimately slacking off, and I'm done getting down on myself about it. So now I'm making myself try and write, even if I end up deleting all the words after an hour. It's paid off this week in the form of another chapter of Lifebringer, and my hope is that before long it'll yield greater and greater returns.

And if it doesn't, then at least I can be satisfied that I'm trying. The alternative sucks.

Slacker

Yep, I'm a slacker. I didn't post anything this Wednesday. I might as well hang up the towel after that.

Anyway, here's (unedited) chapter 3 of Lifebringer, because in all honesty I have nothing new to say about anything this week.

Hell, it's not even a long chapter. I'm the worst content creator this side of Treyarch.

Slacker indeed.

Chapter 3

Admissions

     This corridor was much like the first, only shorter and festooned with twice as many banners. In a way, it was like a concentrated version of the other one. It wasn't what Wrin had expected, but then when he thought about it he wasn't sure quite what he had expected.

     The corridor ended in an archway like every other in the Cathedral, but the room beyond was nothing like the rest of the building. It was still wrought from stone, but it was simple, utilitarian. There were no banners, no frescoes, no stained glass. The only decoration was a single brazier burning in the centre of the room. At the far end of the room was a table with three men sat behind it. A fourth, the one who had fetched Wrin from the chapel, joined them now. The room was very different indeed, but it matched exactly the floor plans Wrin had studied.

     "Wrinlett Leeve. Who is your father?" said the leftmost Clergyman.

     "His name was Tijun." Wrin replied, voice clear but quiet. He didn't exactly want the Priests to pity him, but the less they thought of him the easier he would slip about unnoticed.

     "Mother?" he continued.

     "Gloria." said Wrin.

     "Were either Blessed? asked the man.

     "No."

     That seemed to be all his questions. He scribbled in a ledger that sat in front of him, then turned to the man beside him.

     If Wrin thought he was nervous before, he'd been dead wrong. All at once a wave of nausea washed over him. Here he was, after all these years, standing in the interview room for admissions. He'd made all his plans, and everything should be perfect, but there was always that shadow of doubt. For a split second, that shadow consumed him, made him dizzy and blurred his vision.

     But he didn't show it. Oh no, Wrinlett Leeve was too good at what he did to slip up like that. It would work, everything had always worked, because Wrin was hard working and smart. That put him ahead of most, and his easy charm put him ahead of the rest. He could handle admissions. He'd made the plan, it would work.

     "Wrinlett." said the second man along the table. His head was balding, and what hair was left had long since gone white, but there was a youthful wiliness about him.

     Wrinlett kept his attention on the man, as he had from the moment the first man stopped.

     "As you should know, this is not a place for those chasing fanciful notions of wielding secret magics. Here you might learn to heal the sick and wounded, should you work at it. This is more a school of medicine than a school of the arcane. That said, in learning here you will be taught the ways of the Hymns, which you will use in the service of the Priesthood to heal, and not for personal gain."

     Wrin started to sweat, but not on his face. He never seemed to sweat where others could see. A useful trait, as one could imagine. The plan should have been in action long ago, though. Where was his interruption?

     "Wrin, I will now have you recite the words, given to you by the Protector himself, and you will sing his First Hymn."

     This was it, the crux of the con. Here planning blended with luck and lies, and in a few seconds he would be running on fumes. But he had timed it, it should happen any minute now...

     Wrin opened his mouth. He spoke the first word, a word he had no business knowing. A word he had stolen from an unwilling tongue.

     Then it happened. A crash, a cry, an almighty boom. The four men at the table stood up in alarm. One spared him a momentary glance, but said nothing as they all ran from the room. Their bodies spoke of urgency and practiced calm, of a rise to the call of duty.

     And Wrin was alone.

     It had worked.

Boy Do I Love Milestones

Pretty simple midweek update. Lifebringer has hit 200 pages and 40,000 words. Still got a fair way to go though...

In other news, the main inner city bookseller, Whitcoulls, is closing their doors. After a series of rough years and a total failure to so much as try and get it right, they're shutting their largest store. The company isn't going under, but when all the other locations sell board games, greeting cards and 17 of the Top 50 bestsellers, it certainly feels like they're on their last legs.

Whitcoulls, I'll let you in on a little secret. If I want to buy a board game, I'll go to a fucking specialty board game store. Same with greeting cards. You know where I go to buy books? The bookseller. You know what you are? A bookseller. You know what you need to sell? SOME FUCKING BOOKS.

Take the Hunger Games off the 'Top 50' shelves already, it's been there for 3 years. Give some other books the chance to shine. Trim down the 'generic crime thriller' section, and can the whole 'bestseller' isle. You're losing out to the online market, and that's because they're selling all those things for $20 cheaper than you.

You know what your point of differentiation is? Immediacy. That's right, you bitch and whinge that we're the 'instant generation' and have forgot to cash in on exactly that tendency. When I pay the extra money to buy a book from you, I'm not paying for a book, I'm paying for the convenience of having it straight away. When I order from the Book Depository it'll take a month to arrive, if it arrives at all. When I order from Amazon, I pay $30 in handling fees. And that's before shipping costs. I want to buy some goddamn books, and I want to hold them in my hand, and read them on the bus home.

You know why I don't buy from you? Because you don't stock anything I want to read. All the Jeffrey Archer, and Patricia Cornwell, and Dan Brown, and Clive Cussler. That's the shit people are buying online. They know those names. They don't need to see them on a shelf to be reminded of their existence. People will go buy those books where they're cheapest, and that place isn't your bookstores.

I've spent 5 months looking for a copy of Ernest Cline's 'Ready Player One' and Andy Weir's 'The Martian'. You don't stock them. At all. Not one copy. I've finally relented and paid $60 to have them both shipped to me, and it'll take 2 weeks for them to get here.

Bookstores aren't about buying what you know, or buying the latest 'bestseller', they're about discovery. Discovery, and niche markets. When I walk into a bookstore, I want to find something I would have never heard of otherwise. When did you stop delivering that? And for fuck's sake, why?

Hire a team of buyers for each genre, even each sub-genre. Have them buy stuff a little more off the beaten track. Have them be your quality control for indie books. Have them find stuff that isn't Dan Brown, or 'the next Dan Brown!', or 'praised by Dan Brown!'. Have them find books the rest of us never would without them.

Oh and when you only have 10 shelves for Fantasy and Sci-Fi, A Song of Ice and Fire shouldn't be taking up 4 shelves.


Don't sell chunks of printed paper. Sell discovery.


End Rant.


You pricks.

Insight

I got a very interesting message last week. Someone asked me about my worldbuilding process and how I keep track of everything. Truth is, a lot of it is in my head. But there's also a lot that isn't. So by way of answering that person's questions, here's the notes I'm using for Lifebringer. This, of course, excludes my roadmap, as that would spoil the plot quite completely. Aside from 1-2 changes for the sake of spoilers, this is totally unedited; a direct copy/paste from the word documents I refer to in my writing.

I've also added at the very bottom the 5 parts of the novel and their names. It's insignificant information in a way, but some might find it interesting to know that structural things like dividing into parts is planned out like this.

Notes:

14 boys, 10 girls, oldest 25 (male), youngest 13 (female)

Characters:

·         Wrinlett Leeve

·         Khol (name) (Fork/Knife/Orvin/Gerry/Purzhy/Jurd/Kim/Maggie)

·         Lorsem (Lor) Brith

·         Jaeval (Jae) Brith

·         Karla Deern

·         Tiasi Jay

·         Yawmer (High Cleric)

Academy Subjects - Instructors:

·         Language - Yawmer

·         Anatomy - Jhia

·         Worship - Teff

·         Biology - Warsothet

·         Healing and Hymns - Leorlai

·         Apothecarial Arts - Briwr

Academy Buildings

·         Cathedral (Chapel of Admission/Chapel of Induction/Main Chapel/Basement Levels/Administratorium)

·         Clericum

·         Dormitory (Mess Hall/Common Room/Study Hall/Dorm Floor/Bathroom/Practice Room)

·         Lecture Halls

·         Medicum

·         Library

·         Apothecarium

·         Apothercarial Gardens

Nations/Peoples/Capitol/God/Magic/Arcanists/Art

·         Ægien/Argin/Ægis/Protector/Healing/Priests+Paladins+Inqisitors/Healing

·         Tence/Tencish/Pilor/Former/Elements/Mages+Elementalists/Conjuring

·         Cardis/Cardish/Sandsedge/Maker/Construction/Enchanters/Enchantry

·         Verdis/Verdish/Alchus/Impeller/Energy/Sorcerers/Sorcery

·         Heivar/Heivalar/Godtree/Nurturer/Life/Shamans/Alteration

·         Chronis/Chronists/Drift/Watcher/Time/Chronists/Chronistry

Saints

·         Pice (Alive.)

·         Nomi (Alive. Paladin.)

·         Kiyfall (Dead)

·         Requi (Dead)

·         Cliwth (Dead. First Inquisitor.)

·         Obitus (Dead. First Paladin.)

·         Vaia (Dead. First Priest after the Binding.)

1 Year as students

5 Years in a Clericum OR 3 Years Paladin training OR Inquisitor apprenticeship

After Clericum may live outside Clerica and even stop working as a healer, most stay on. May also pursue Paladinship or Inquisitorial training, though these are subject to recruitment. May pursue Administratorium positions subject to availability.

After 20 years serving in Clerica, may found a Clericum and preside over it as Chaplain.

Lord Cleric (1) - High Cleric (3) - Head Cleric (each capital) - Chaplain (other Clerica) - Priest

Order Father/Mother (Krayw Gror) (1) - Paladin - Initiate (Priest)

Lord Inquisitor (Jekker Promaire) - Inquisitor - Apprentice (Priest)

Characters:

Wrinlett Leeve:

18, black hair, green eyes, average height. Conman, with traits of psychopathy and narcissism. Born to traders, mother (Gloria) died by drowning, father (Tijun) killed 3 weeks later by a highwayman. Lived for 12 years on the streets of Aegis, met Khol within a month. No magical ability, but has bluffed his way into the Academy.

Lorsem Brith:

17, sandy blonde hair, brown eyes, taller than Wrin, well-built but a little lacking from his years on the streets. Student, having lived two years on the streets saving to travel to Aegis for admissions. Thrown out at 15 by his father when he was given the Gift, mother died when Lorsem was 3. Honest and upstanding, but emotional and not above anger. Confident, but not in the presence of Jaeval.

Jaeval Brith:

Lorsem's twin brother, but a little more muscular and well-fed. Left his father at 17 when the Gift was given to him, but left with his father's blessing. Received word during his journey to Aegis of his father's passing. The 'confident' twin, who is naturally more outgoing. Prodigal in terms of healing ability, and admitted a day late because of this.

Karla Deern:

17, brown hair that falls in curls, blue eyes, short, curvy. Born to merchants of medium wealth in Aegis. Given the Gift and can already heal broken bones. Pleasant enough, but secretive and hides a great intellect and confidence behind an outward 'girlish naivety'.

Tiasi Jay:

19, pale blonde hair cut short, brown eyes, Wrin's height, thin. Born to a prostitute mother in Aegis. Mostly independent from a young age, worked in taverns and began to learn arts of brewing. Clever, but a little arrogant and aloof. Kind-hearted and not unlikable, if a little reserved and judgemental.

The six gods created the world, the product of all their talents

The Shaper, God of the elements, gave the world pieces of substance

The Maker, God of construction, bound these things together

The Nurturer, God of nature, gave the world biological creations

The Impeller, God of energy, gave these creations life

The Protector, God of vitality, gave living things the ability to heal and mend

The Watcher, God of time, gave the world the only thing he could; the ability to die

And so the world was. As time went by, men began to favour one God over all others, and began to group themselves with those who were like-minded. The Gods rewarded their followers with a further gift: the gift of magic.

Each God gave their followers a form of magic. The Shaper gave her followers command over the elements, the Maker gave his followers the ability to bind objects together, the Nurturer gave his followers the ability to shape the plants and wildlife, the Impeller gave her followers the ability to transfer energy, the Protector gave his followers the ability to heal, and the Watcher gave its followers the ability to control the flow of time. For a while, things were good this way. But all the Gods knew the truth; That this would be short-lived. They had made men too powerful, and so they began to hurt the world. First it was small things, new lakes made to support settlements, giant walls to keep their lands safe. Then the most powerful began to disrupt the lives of thousands, creating constructs of war, turning cities to stone that crumbled at the wind. Then a powerful Chronist stopped time itself.

His intentions were good. He gathered the Gods and brought them out of their growing denial. The world could not continue this way, and the powers of men had to be curbed. But the Gods saw the danger of such a powerful Chronist, and soon they struck him down.

Still, his words worked, and the Gods agreed to limit the magic in the world. Each God must select the men who would wield their magic, and each must lock it in an art of casting that would take time to learn. The world was repaired as best as could be done, and the passage of time was restored. In among this, though, the Watcher fled the world. No-one has seen or heard of them since. No-one even remembers what they looked or sounded like. With them, the Chronists disappeared.

So that's the mythos, and it leaves me with a lot of freedoms and just as many limitations. The net effect is that I have a world with magic, practiced my Arcanists, divided into 6 distinct systems. These systems are roughly as follows:

The Shaper's magic is practiced by Mages, and a Mage will learn one element at a time with only the most powerful ever learning more than 3, let alone all of them. They are able to use these elements at their will.

The Maker's magic is practiced by Enchanters, and they can bind objects in various ways through the use of glyphs and sigils inscribed onto objects. They are able to construct things like unbreakable buildings.

The Nurturer's magic is practiced by Shamans, and they can alter the biology of new lifeforms. They are able to do things like grow fruit trees that are harvested year-round.

The Impeller's magic is practiced by Sorcerers, and they are able to transfer energy from one thing to another, or create and destroy energy through the use of complicated diagrams imbued with magic. They would be able to take the heat from a fire and boil a body of water.

The Protector's magic is practiced by Priests, and they are able to heal lifeforms through the use of Hymns. They would be able to heal a cut, cure a cancer and prolong a life, but the Hymns get more complicated as the healed becomes older.

The Watcher's magic is practiced by Chronists. No-one knows what they are able to do, and no-one knows how.

Protector:

System - Hymns (Healing).

Rules - Sung in a magical language, with different Hymns for different ailments and subtle differences depending on area injured, severity, etc. Grammatically complex language.

Penalties/Limitations - Time. The older a patient or the more complex the illness, the more complex and long the Hymn.

Maker:

System - Glyphs and Sigils (Enchantry).

Rules - Each must be inscribed onto a certain material and written with absolute accuracy in order to imbue the object with the intended property.

Penalties/Limitations - Material availability. If a certain Glyph or Sigil requires a rare material then its use will be limited. Also due to the accuracy required in writing Glyphs and Sigils it may take time for more complex constructions.

Impeller:

System - Alchemical Diagrams (Sorcery).

Rules - Through the use of these diagrams Sorcerers may transfer energy in complex ways, using commands similar to programming logic.

Penalties/Limitations - Despite perfect transfer, inequivalent exchange is still impossible and energy may not be created or destroyed.

Nurturer:

System - Imbued Intention (Alteration).

Rules - By imbuing a seed or sapling with intentions of eventual properties and use, a Shaman may produce genetically altered plants to serve a variety of purposes.

Penalties/Limitations - Time. Even though the growing process may be accelerated, it still takes some time for a plant to grow, meaning the results of the magic are far from immediate.

Shaper:

System - Channelling (Conjuring).

Rules - A practiser of the magic can call up the element they have control over and produce it with some effort. Often in the form of literally 'shooting' ice/fire/water/what have you from their hands or perhaps an object. Alternatively, a chosen person may become one with the element, forgoing the ability to wield it and instead becoming a living manifestation of that element. These people live on Vane, and have a largely separate society.

Penalties/Limitations - Largely God-imposed. The Shaper will only select someone absolutely capable of wielding the massive power, leaving the number of magic-users incredibly small.

Chronist:

System - Travelling (Chronistry).

Rules - A Chronist may only move a certain distance through time with the help of one or more other Chronists. The further travelled, the more people required.

Penalties/Limitations - Manpower and Equivalent Exchange of Time. For every second moved forward, and area around the Chronist is moved equally back in time, and vice versa. The more Chronists used, the smaller the affected area, however this creates a manpower limitation.

PART 1 - THE BLESSED

PART 2 - THE DISCIPLED

PART 3 - THE RELINQUISHED

PART 4 - THE CONCEALED

PART 5 - THE ASCENDED

A Little More Life

Or rather, a little more Lifebringer. This is still the first draft, but I figured after posting the first chapter a while back it would be a disservice to not post more. Here's the second chapter. Check the 'Lifebringer' tag to find the first one if you haven't read it.

Chapter 2

Holy Spaces

            Wrin squeezed out of the hole in the wall at Alleyend, emerging into a dark and damp crawlspace of an alleyway. It was one of the advantages of Alleyend that it was so far from the street. Even Wrin wasn't sure exactly where it lay in the city, but it was deep into a block of wide shops with oddly-shaped floor plans. It was through no small amount of luck that Wrin found it when he'd first arrived in Aegis, and as the weeks went by he began to wonder why no-one else had snapped up such prime real estate. The answer became clear when he started bringing the other kids he'd pickpocket with back to his secret place. Few had ever even gone that far down the alley, and those that did assumed the place was already taken. In that sense, Wrin was lucky he'd been so naive back when he spent his first nights on the streets.

            That naivety left him pretty fast though. It was his second month in Aegis, and he took another boy he'd been pickpocketing with back to Alleyend. So far Wrin had befriended exceptions, but this boy, as Wrin learned over the years, was the rule. He'd pulled a knife on Wrin the moment he knew the way to Alleyend, and had it not been for the intervention of Knife himself Wrin would've bled to death in a back alley at the age of six. Knife had been a good sort, Wrin thought, but the truth was he just had an immense talent for violence. Knife saw an opportunity there at Alleyend. He could stay there and kill anyone who sought to take it for themselves. He and Wrin had shaken hands on the deal, and neither said a word to the other for the next five years.

            The crawlspace ended, and Wrin emerged into the more forgiving part of the alley. He used to be able to walk upright here, but the years of growth spurts meant he now had to hunch, even if only slightly. As he walked he caught himself thinking about Khol's words. In truth, he absolutely was nervous, but not for the reason Khol thought. Khol could read his emotions like a book, but he was thick as a brick when it came to understanding their source. It was only sheer respect for the lad that had made Wrin explain his thoughts so many times over the years. That was the reality of things here on the streets of Aegis, there was no trust, just respect and good deals. People weren't ever against you, they were just for themselves.

            Wrin stepped out into the street now, enjoying the fresh river air. The wind was coming down from the north and blowing out to sea, which wasn't a common occurrence in Aegis. Wrin enjoyed the refreshing change from the smell of brine and damp wood. He turned inward to the city centre, taking the route he had planned for himself. Some of the others would have taken less direct routes, again to avoid suspicion. The net effect was they should all be reaching the location at the same time. Of the seven that were going inside, four were taking the front door. The other three were the greasemen, who would climb in through pipes and forgotten passageways. Once the heist was underway, each of them had somewhere to be. According to Wrin, each movement was planned to avoid the men on watch inside the labyrinthine Cathedral.

            It was this Cathedral that Wrin now stood before. It was one of the city's three attractions, the others being the arena and the palace. It was normally busy in the square out front, but today, admissions day, was even busier. Wrin squeezed his way through crowds, forcing his way to the front door. A few years ago he would have been surprised at how forcefully he could brush people aside, but these days he had become used to his innate strength.

            There was a queue at the door, but looking ahead Wrin could see a sign with two arrows pointing in opposite directions. One read Observers, the other read Admissions. Once a year, that sign was put out and half the city would queue on the right hand side to watch the young hopefuls say their pre-admissions prayers. The families would then stay to watch for their beloved children, ready to cheer if they saw them saying their vows of induction or console if they saw them back in the prayer room. Wrin was one of the few dozen who would turn left at the sign, and that meant he didn't have to queue.

            The Cathedral was made up of two main sections. One was the small prayer room, which the public could enter and use at any time. The other was the Clericum, where the sick would go to be treated. There were two other doors at the Cathedral's entrance, doors which today were open. These led to the Academy and to a small viewing ring around the two chapels where would-be Priests could be viewed on admissions day.

            Wrin strode past the line of people, some of whom turned to look at him as he marched past them headed for admissions. Most kept their eyes ahead as the line shuffled forward inch by inch. Reaching the sign, Wrin turned left through the usually-closed door and down a long, tall corridor. He slowed his pace here, letting himself revel in the easy summer breeze that followed him down the hall. The walls were bare stone, but along them was a series of white tapestries adorned with the red crest of the Protector. Wrin slowed to look at the first few, expecting some form of scripture to be woven into the fabric. But alas, they were all bare. It was a shame, he thought, but it didn't dull the sense of boyish excitement growing in his stomach.

            At the end of the hall was a large open arch on his right. He stepped through it into the first chapel, where the Priests-to-be knelt to pray before admissions. Wrin walked to the door on the far wall, trying not to feel embarrassed at the loud sound of his shoes against the floor. Once there, he scribbled his name in the ledger. Wrinlett Leeve. Taking a quick glance at the half dozen names before his, he couldn't help but feel intimidated by how neat all their handwriting was. Wrin's looked like that of a child. Then again, he'd only been a child when he was taught to write.

            Walking back to the pews, Wrin caught a glance of the crowds above. The second story, some ten feet above the ground, was full of Aegis' citizens pressing their faces to the glass to watch Wrin and his silent companions pray. Wrin did his best to ignore them and took a seat, bowing his head in the semblance of prayer. Again his doubts in his plan surfaced.

            'You don't even know the words of prayer! You'll never get in. Remember what your dad told you about the Priests? They know magic before they come here, not after. You've got nothing, you're just the urchin Wrin.'

            He pushed the thoughts aside, even if they were right. He'd made the plan, there was no good reason for it not to work. And if it didn't, he lost nothing. He had his excuses prepared, none of the boys would suspect a thing.

            "Parsons, Krayner" came a voice from the far door.

            Wrin looked up, then ducked his head back down when he noticed no-one else had raised their head. There was the sound of footsteps growing distant, then there was silence again. During his brief glance, Wrin had seen a tall, thin middle-aged man with a well-trimmed beard. He'd been dressed in bright white robes adorned with red markings and the rose crest of the Protector.

            A pang of nerves hit him then, the quiet shock interrupting his mouthed bluff of a prayer. He was already nervous about his plan, so what was this? He was nervous, he realised, about being caught. But no, there was no reason he would be caught. He hadn't deviated from the plan he'd given the boys, and by the time he did it would be too late for them to find out. In any case, each of them should have bigger things to worry about right now, and none of them should be here.

            "Trim, Hareld." came the voice again. This time Wrin didn't look up. The sound of Hareld's footsteps echoed away down the hall and once again the room was silent.

            There'd been six on the list before Wrin, so there were still four more to go. The admissions were held in a different room than the ones the public could see or enter. Wrin had only the tiniest of ideas of what happened in that room. Still, that didn't matter. He'd been planning this for years, had gone to great lengths to find the blueprints they'd used. He knew all the details, and it was going to work. It had to work.

            Two more people entered the room, walking over to the ledger beside the far wall and signing their names on it. There would be more of them throughout the next hour, the last hour in which admissions were open. No sooner had the boys left the ledger and taken their seats did the Priest re-enter the chapel.

            "Beleren, Jarvis." said the man. It made Wrin jump a little this time, but he managed not to show it. He could have sworn the voice had been softer the first two times...

            It had been maybe five minutes between each name being called out, so Wrin's timing couldn't have been more perfect. Right now, the greasemen would have let Khol's crew in and together they would have cleared out all the necessary halls and rooms. Khol himself would have split off to find the Paladin's quarters so that he was in position when Wrin made his move.

            The man came in and called out another name, then another, then another. Wrin's stomach tumbled and lurched in excitement as he waited those last few minutes, and for some reason he couldn't help but feel like he desperately needed to pee. It was nerves though, all nerves. He knew that much. Khol would be well in position by now, expecting Wrin to start a fire in the chapel. But Wrin did no such thing. Instead, the man walked into the room and called out the next name on the list.

            "Leeve, Wrinlett."

            Wrin stood up, keeping his eyes off the crowds above, and strode over to the door, following the priest through it and into the hallway beyond.